But instead of them turning sexual, he dropped his forehead to her shoulder and breathed.
She stroked his back, catching sight of their reflection in the window. His large frame wrapped around her. Their breathing synchronised. Slow breaths in, long exhales.
Finally, he stood and cupped her cheeks.
“How was it?” she asked.
“I feel like I lost a layer of skin, and there’s nothing left holding me together.”
“You don’t need to tell me anything, but I’m here for you if you do.”
His blue eyes focused on hers as if seeking answers she wasn’t sure she held. “I’m glad you’re here. And that I didn’t have to come home to an empty house.” Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against hers. Softly, then deeper.
Was it possible to lose yourself in a kiss?
Yes. It was.
She kept her eyes closed for a couple of seconds after his lips left hers before opening them. “I love the way you kiss me.”
“I love the way you let me. Sit with me,” Luke said, leading her to the sofa. He pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her. “I never realised how depressing this place was before until just now. With the sun shining outside, and the plants in here, and the different spaces, and the cushions and everything. When I said I was glad to come home to you, I meant it. But I also missed the peace I’m finding here now.”
“We did a good job.”
“You’re the ideas woman,” he said, tapping the end of her nose. “I’m just the hired help.”
“You are pretty impressive with a roller, I’ll give you that. And very efficient with paint usage.”
Luke looked out of the window. “Neil said something today, and I’ve thought about it all the way home on the tram.”
“Do you want to share it?”
He looked back to her and rubbed his thumb across her lower lip. “I love how fucking soft your lips get when I kiss you. Makes me want to kiss them all over again.”
Willow smiled. “Neil said that?”
Luke’s shoulders relaxed. “I hope not.”
“Good. But you can kiss them any time you want.”
“Lucky me. But I think that has been part of my problem. Using sex and booze and drugs as a way to numb the way I was really feeling about things, instead of facing the things. And you’re the only person I’ve wanted to face those things with.”
Running her fingers softly through his hair, she smiled. “I feel like the universe created this weird little cosmos where our worlds collided at the perfect time. I don’t know that I believe in fate, but I do feel like things happen for a reason.”
Luke placed his hand on her stomach, a habit he’d gotten into. “So do I. Neil said I need to reset the view I have of Dad and that I need to forgive myself.”
“Do you agree with him?”
Luke chewed on his lower lip for a moment before answering. “He talked about how I’ve been trying to live up to an impossible bar because I’ve basically elevated Dad to sainthood . . . or something like that. Like I’ve created this impossible image of what a dad should be. When I look back at what I did, looking after Izabel from fifteen, when he died, and from seventeen when mum left, I think I did a shit job. And that’ll never be good enough. But actually, I need to think about Dad’s imperfections to remember him fully.”
“Do you remember them?”
“I’ve been wracking my brain on the way home. When I think about it now, he always had a scotch glass in his hand. And I wonder if I’m distorting things in my head. There was one fight Mum and Dad had, and I remember Mum saying she wanted to go out to work, but Dad saying she couldn’t and that she had to stay home with us and that he provided enough for us. And back then, I thought he was such a hero for looking after us all, but maybe he was controlling, at times. I don’t know.”
“And what about forgiving yourself?”
Luke sighed and traced his hand over her hip to her thighs, his palm warm through her yoga pants. “I’m not sure I’m there yet. But he talked about reframing the difference between still being a child myself and being an adult now. And that I need to thank young Luke for all he did instead of berating that part of me for not being good enough.”
Her heart cracked at the uncertainty in his voice. “Do you know what my big accomplishment when I turned seventeen was? Learning how to play Rise of the Tomb Raider because I’d heard a guy I wanted to notice me played it. I spent the entire summer trying to get good so I could talk to him about it in the fall term. But when I tried to impress him with my knowledge, he told me he was playing The Witcher and wasn’t playing Tomb Raider anymore.”
Luke laughed. “Were you any good?”
“Not really. Better than the casual player, but never going to break any records. But what I’m saying is, that is what normal seventeen-year-olds do. You stepped in to fill the void of a dead parent and the ghost of a parent left behind. That teen is a hero, Luke. Even if you made packaged meals, and looked up homework answers on Google, and let Iz stay up two hours later than appropriate, or got late points for not making registration. Neil is right. That child deserves your love and appreciation.”
He threaded his fingers through hers. “Thanks, Will. It . . . feels like a lot to process. Neil said something similar to you. He said his kids are about the age I was, and they moan and complain about everything. Helping out around the house. Doing homework, that kind of shit. And as an adult, I can totally see that. I feel like I can see other people as kids. Like I can visualise you playing video games. I can see Matt and the band as young kids. But for some reason, I can’t see myself as a kid.”
“Because you weren’t allowed to be one. Because you felt like an adult too soon. Do you have any old photographs?”
Luke shook his head. “Mum took them all with her when she left. Let’s go get them. Let’s go down to Brighton.”
“Right now?”
“Yeah. I need to talk to her. And she should meet you.”
“You want me to meet your mum. Right now?”
“No, tomorrow. We’ll drive down this afternoon. Stay in a hotel. Then, go see her in the morning.”
“I’m in. But you need to let me do one thing before we go.”
Luke lifted from the sofa with a grunt, her still in his arms. “Fine. Let’s go pack.”
16
“I’m not going to lie,” Luke said, as he parked the Jaguar F-Type in front of his mum’s. “Hiring this instead of taking the van was a genius idea.” He kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”
“Call it a late birthday present.” Willow grinned as she undid her seatbelt. “You deserve some fun, Luke.”
She’d bounced on her toes with excitement when she’d told him what she’d done, and he realised he’d felt special. Which was such a stupid word for a grown-arsed man. But it was true. Willow had done something utterly unexpected, for him, because she’d wanted to ease his burden. It had felt foreign to accept the thoughtful gift. So had feeling . . . treasured.
They’d roared down the motorway listening to classic rock songs, with the windows wide open. He’d sung, she’d tried, and they’d laughed, taking his mind off what they were about to do.